


I Will Always Come Back to You

by TheBravePrincessPure



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy and Echo are canon, Choking, Eclipse Psychosis, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I don't want to give too much away, Injured!Clarke, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, New Planet, One Shot, Psychosis, SPOILERS AHEAD, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 06 Speculation, Strangulation, Temporary Character Death, based off of the season 6 trailer, happy ending I promise, hurt!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:12:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBravePrincessPure/pseuds/TheBravePrincessPure
Summary: Based off of the season 6 trailer. Minor spoilers ahead.The eclipse on the new planet causes a temporary psychosis for our expedition group. Clarke has to face her demons, and a friend becomes an enemy.Prepare for Bellarke feels.





	I Will Always Come Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This fic contains minor spoilers for the new season. Most of it is speculation based off of what we saw in the trailer, mixed with some Bellarke feels. This is a Bellarke-centered fic, even though Becho is canon in this as well, so if you're not into that, turn back now.

_Not safe. Nothing is safe. Chaos. Running. Screams, I hear screams. No, keep running. It’s not safe, you have to keep going._

 

Clarke was panting, her shoulders brushing against the tree branches as she tried to make sense of the warped view she was having. Everything had this scarlet hue to it, and the trees curved in ways they shouldn’t. There was an odd high-pitched ringing in her ears that happened every time she moved her head too fast. Her feet stumbled over the unfamiliar terrain. Was this planet’s soil different? She wasn’t sure, but it felt like her feet were sinking with each step. All she knew was that her friends had started attacking each other, and it had something to do with the two suns eclipsing.

 

_Focus, Griffin_ , she thought, closing her eyes for a moment in hopes it would help her compose herself. Right. Emori had attacked her and Bellamy, and when Murphy tried to stop her, she turned on him. Jackson attacked Miller, who was quick to return the favor. She had completely lost track of Bellamy after Emori got pulled off of them, but she thought she might have seen Echo running at Miller. It was chaos, which was something Clarke took advantage of when she ran. It was an easy distraction to slip out of there, in fear she would hurt someone too, and it was clear that there was nothing she could do to stop them from hurting each other. The last thing she needed was one more reason for her friends to hate her, even if they were all under the same psychosis.

 

She made it deep into the woods by the time she stopped. She was not familiar with the territory, but as she looked around, she could not see anything past the trees surrounding her. She was lucky enough to have snatched her backpack as she ran, so she had enough supplies to last her until whatever was happening passed. She set down the pack and rifled through it, pulling out a water canteen and talking a sip. The water tasted bitter, and felt thick as it ran down her throat. She coughed and covered her mouth, looking in the canteen to check the water.

 

What she saw was red. Thick, viscous fluid was inside of her canteen. Her vision blurred around the edges as she tipped the canteen, watching the liquid pour out. She knew exactly what that it was; she had been around blood enough times to recognize it. She dropped the canteen and staggered back, her shoulder hitting a tree. She watched as the blood continued to pour out of the spilled canteen, almost like it was endless. She felt like she stood there for ages before she picked up her bag and continued walking, away from her canteen. She couldn’t bear the sight of it, her stomach turning as she pictured it in her head. The ringing in her ears was back, somehow duller than before.

 

Clarke looked around, not even knowing which direction she came from, but she kept walking. Time passed slowly, but it all blurred together, her head swimming. She started hearing mumbled voices, but couldn’t tell if they came from a certain direction. She would turn to find the source, only to hear it coming from a different direction. It kept changing, warping. At first she feared she had wandered back to the group, but the voices weren’t distinguishable. Not at first.

 

_Hey Kiddo_ …

 

Clarke’s head whipped around, her eyes wide. She knew that voice, that soft, echoing voice. She hadn’t heard it in… well, years. Not since the ark, not since she watched him die.

 

“Dad?” Clarke said, her voice cracking. She kept looking around, trying to find him, but she couldn’t see anything but scarlet-colored trees.

 

_My, my, haven’t you grown_ …

 

Clarke swallowed. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her vision warped as she stared at a tree. She blinked, trying to correct it, but it was no use. “Why can’t I see you? Where are you?”

 

_Oh, honey, I’m always with you_ …

 

She let out a shaky sigh, feeling tears well up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. The longer she stared at that tree, the more it distorted. The branches twisted in different directions. It almost looked like it was moving.

 

_I’ve seen what you’ve done_ …

 

The voice was different this time, more gravelly, more… angry. Clarke stepped back. “I tried… I tried to be the good guy…” she mumbled, shaking her head. She looked down, only to see the ground moving beneath her feet, even though she was standing still.

 

_Oh, Clarke, you know that’s not true_ …

 

Clarke’s eyes widened and she lifted her head. “Jasper?” she whispered, not trusting her voice to be any louder. She knew it was him. It was the same dead tone his voice had shifted to after Maya’s death, not the joyful tone he used when they had first landed on the ground. No, that Jasper was long gone.

 

_You’re nothing more than a killer. Where you go, death follows_ …

 

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears finally spill over. Her face felt warm, as if the sun was shining directly on her, but she was shaded on all sides by the trees. “I didn’t want to kill her, Jasper. You know that,” she whimpered, wrapping her arms around her torso. She wished the shifting ground would open up and swallow her whole.

 

_What about me? Did you want to kill me?_

 

That voice belonged to someone she hadn’t thought of in a long time; Finn, her second mercy kill, the first being Atom. She sank to the ground, her arms tightening their grasp, like she was trying to physically holding herself in one piece. “No, I didn’t. But I didn’t want you to suffer,” she murmured, not wanting to open her eyes. She didn’t know what she would see, but she feared it wouldn’t be good.

 

_They all suffered, Clarke! They all suffered at your hands!_

 

Clarke winced, this new voice surprising her most of all. It was her own. It sounded as if the voice was coming from right in front of her, but it couldn’t be. She had never heard her own voice like that, distorted, loud, and clearly not coming from her. The voice kept screaming.

 

_You have hundreds of people’s blood on your hands! Can’t you feel it?_

 

She tried to block out the voice, she really did, but it was so loud, surrounding her from all sides. The noise echoed in her head, distorting with the rest of the world around her. There was no amount of force her arms could have to stop her from feeling as if her body was floating apart. “Stop, please, go away,” she begged, squeezing her eyes shut to resist the temptation to open them.

 

_You can’t get rid of what you’ve done, Clarke. You’re stained, tainted from all of the lives you’ve taken away. You can never redeem yourself after what you’ve done._

 

The voice was mocking her, mocking her misery. Her hands flew up to cover her ears as a twisted, deformed laugh echoed all around her. “Shut up!” she shouted, this time, her real voice echoing through the forest. The voices stopped, followed by the return of the ringing in her ears. She was so afraid to open her eyes, but she knew she couldn’t stay sitting on the damp soil forever.

 

When she opened them, she was alone, as she was before the voices came. Everything was still that awful shade of glowing crimson. It was like everything around her had an aura of warm, blood-colored light. It made her sick to focus on it, so she quickly pulled her pack from her shoulders and opened it. Here was a good of a place as any to set up for the rest of the day, possibly into the night. _This has to be over by morning_ , she thought to herself. _If there even is a morning to this place_.

 

She sat in the quiet, unable to tell how much time had passed. She had tried looking around, but the more she looked out at her surroundings, the more her vision blurred and altered. So she took to organizing her things in her pack, closing her eyes, and just waiting for this sick, twisted event to be over. _I should have taken that book more seriously._

 

The world around her never got any darker, so she was unsure if night had fallen or not. It felt like hours had gone by, but with her mind playing tricks on her, she wasn’t so sure. There were some occasional whispers that echoed around her, but she began to hum, which seemed to fight them off. It was the same song she had hummed to Atom, the song that her father had sung to her as a child to get her off to sleep. She had hummed it to Madi before, to soothe here from the lingering nightmares she had from Praimfiya. There were a few times that she stopped humming, only for the song to continue to echo around her. She decided that continuing was better than hearing that eerie reverberation.

 

“Nice song, princess.”

 

Clarke jumped, mainly because it was the first real voice she had heard since leaving the group. It wasn’t accompanied by a distorted tone or weird imitation like the others were. She looked up to see Bellamy, his figure looming above her. His clothes were mangled, torn in certain spots, the collar stretched out around his neck. His eyes looked cold, distant, and she briefly wondered if he saw the scarlet hue too. Her eyes slowly focused on his hands, one hanging loosely by his side, the other on the handle of his sword that was strapped to his hip. She finally found her voice. “Bellamy, are you okay?”

 

Bellamy let out a chuckle, but it felt off, not genuine. They may have lost touch with each other, but Clarke knew Bellamy well enough to know that this wasn’t right. “Couldn’t find you for a long time, Clarke. Not until I heard you singing.”

 

Clarke swallowed harshly, slowly raising herself from her place on the ground. She kept her hands where Bellamy could see them, wanting him to know she posed no threat. “Bellamy, I –“

 

She didn’t have time to react. Her mind slowed it down, but her body couldn’t move fast enough. Bellamy lunged at her, unsheathing his sword and slashing towards her. She side stepped, but the blade cut through her shirt and jacket like it was nothing, leaving a long, angry cut on her shoulder in its wake. She quickly grabbed her long knife out of her jacket, barely fast enough to block Bellamy’s next swing.

 

“See? I knew you would fight back. Just can’t resist another way to hurt me,” Bellamy growled, stepping closer, using his larger size to force her back. He towered over her, his larger sword clearly overpowering Clarke’s dagger, the sound of grating metal screeching in Clarke’s ears.

 

Clarke widened her stance, hoping to create a strong base to help her counteract Bellamy’s force. “Bellamy, listen to me, please--“

 

Bellamy’s foot slid behind Clarke’s and knocked it out from under her. She fell, landing on her side. She quickly rolled out of the way as Bellamy’s sword came swinging down, burying itself in the dirt where her body was just a second ago. She scrambled up, taking a few steps away and watching Bellamy yank his sword from the ground. “Why should I listen to you? You’ve done nothing to earn my trust, especially after leaving me to fight in the pit,” he spat at her, adjusting his stance, similar to how Echo used to.

 

“You’re not thinking straight, none of us are,” Clarke said quickly, keeping her knife in front of her chest, bracing herself for another attack. Bellamy had gotten much better at hand-to-hand combat during his time on the Ark, and she wasn’t sure how long she could last with him now. He lunged at her again, their weapons clashing against each other. They stared at each other through the gap between them, Bellamy with hatred, Clarke with concern. She knew she was outmatched in this fight.

 

Bellamy shifted, just enough for Clarke to twist her wrist and knock Bellamy’s grasp on his sword, causing it to clatter to the ground. He lunged forward, without his sword, his hands headed straight for her throat. Clarke knew she didn’t stand a chance against Bellamy’s strength, and she knew the only chance she had was to hurt him back. She closed her eyes briefly, sinking her dagger into his leg as his fingers curled around her throat. She heard him let out a growl of pain, but it didn’t stop him, or slow him down. “Bellamy-“ she squeaked, feeling her windpipe narrow under the force of his grip as they tumbled to the ground, him on top of her.

 

“Don’t! Don’t you dare try to plead with me!” Bellamy shouted at her, sweat glistening against his brow. “You left me to die! All you do is hurt me!” His hands trembled as his fingers dug into her neck. “You deserve this.”

 

Clarke opened her mouth, trying to beg for him to snap out of it, to remember the book they had read. This was clearly part of the eclipse’s power, the real Bellamy would never do this to her… would he? All that came out was a squeak, and then a gasp that raked its way down her closing air pipe. Her fingers clawed at his wrists, trying to pry his hands off of her, but it was no use. She used what little energy she had to try to kick him, but with his entire weight on top of her, it was likely he didn’t even notice her struggles. He was hyper focused on her face, glaring at her with anger and hurt clear in his eyes.

 

The red hue to her vision was being taken over by black at the edges, what looked like white spots dancing across her vision. She was passing out, she realized, with only seconds until she fell unconscious. She was going to die if he didn’t let her go. She locked her gaze with his, tears forming at the outer corners of her eyes. Instead of clawing at his wrists, she lifted her hand towards his head. Her finger tapped against the side of his head twice, a small reminder to use his head.

 

Clarke knew this wasn’t Bellamy, not really. This Bellamy reminded her of the Bellamy fresh off the drop ship, ruled by emotions and fear for his sister, willing to do anything and hurt anyone to protect his own. But she knew that her Bellamy, the real Bellamy, used his head now. She just needed him to use it now.

 

*

 

Bellamy felt, rather than saw, Clarke’s body stop moving, the fight draining out of her as his hands squeezed tighter. He didn’t let up, even after her eyes fell shut and her chest failed to draw in another raspy breath. His fingers continued to hold, his jaw clenched, until the red hue faded from his vision. Without really thinking about it, his hands released Clarke’s throat and he sat back, still on top of Clarke’s unmoving body. It was like he was in a fog, until he saw the dark bruises forming around her throat, and felt the aching feeling in his hands.

 

“Clarke?” he asked, his voice small. When she didn’t respond, his eyes flickered down to her chest. It was as still as the rest of her body. She wasn’t breathing. “Clarke!” he barked, leaning over her and gently tapping the side of her face. “Fuck, shit, what-“ he whispered, his gaze drawn back to her throat, bruises blooming deep purple against her pale skin.

 

“Jackson!” Bellamy yelled, as loud as he could. From his hazy memories, he knew he couldn’t be too far from the others. Clarke had somehow managed to turn herself around, back towards the village when he found her. Bellamy’s shaking hands cupped the sides of her head. “Clarke, come back, please,” he begged, feeling the telltale burning of tears in his eyes. “Jackson!” he yelled again, his brain spinning. If he could get Jackson here, the doctor would know what to do. His tears burned hot against his cheeks as he brushed Clarke’s hair out of her face.

 

_I killed her_ , he thought, his throat tightening.

 

Bellamy shifted slightly, trying to get off of Clarke, causing a sharp pain to come from his leg. He briefly glanced down, noticing the blood from where Clarke had sunk her dagger into his leg. The dagger was beside them, glistening red as the light filtered in through the trees above. Normal, warm light, not red tinged in the slightest. The eclipse was over, but the consequences remained.

 

_I killed Clarke._

 

Bellamy looked up as he heard rustling through the bushes, seeing the rest of the crew show up, Jackson leading the pack. He could see Jackson’s confused expression try to take in the scene in front of him; Bellamy over Clarke, his leg bleeding pretty badly, Clarke unmoving below him. The rest of the group looked shocked, although by the state of them, it seemed like they didn’t have quite an easy time during the eclipse either. Bellamy quickly got off of Clarke, ignoring the pain in his leg, his eyes wide as he looked up at Jackson. “She’s not breathing,” he said, his voice cracking.

 

_I killed her_. The unspoken words hanging in the air around them.

 

Jackson rushed forward, dropping to his knees on the other side of Clarke. He leaned his head down, his ear above Clarke’s mouth. His fingers pushed against the side of Clarke’s neck, and Bellamy winced at the sight of the bruises again. “She doesn’t have a pulse,” Jackson stated, positioning himself over Clarke, placing his hands on her chest and straightening his arms. “I’m starting CPR. Bellamy, you’re going to have to perform mouth to mouth. Tilt her head back to straighten out her airway, pull down her jaw to open her mouth, and when I tell you, give her two breaths of air, okay?”

 

Bellamy tried to force himself to focus on Jackson’s instructions, even though his body was trembling and his head was spinning. Clarke was dead. He had killed her, choked her until she suffocated. His eyes were unfocused, but he could see Jackson repeatedly pushing on Clarke’s chest, hard enough that it looked like her chest might cave. He could hear Jackson talking again, but it sounded muffled in his ears. He had killed Clarke Griffin.

 

His focus was interrupted by someone pulling him up and away from Clarke, and he thought he heard Miller in his ear, telling him something meant to be soothing. He watched as Murphy took his place next to Clarke, and a small part of him wanted to tell Murphy to get away from her when he saw Murphy open Clarke’s mouth and lean his head over her. Miller’s arms were still around him, though, supporting a good amount of his weight.

 

“Get him out of here,” he heard Jackson say, and suddenly he was being dragged away from Clarke, back towards the village.

 

“No!” he shouted, finally gaining some focus. “No! I won’t leave her! Not again! You can’t make me leave her!” He tried fighting against Miller, but he felt his leg buckle under him, and he remembered he was still injured.

 

_I killed her._

 

“Please, don’t make me leave her, please,” he begged, but no one was listening. They dragged him off, the bushes and trees obscuring his view of what was happening to Clarke. He finally looked around, his vision blurry as he met the gazes of his friends. Echo and Emori looked concerned, but Miller looked focused, the expression of a soldier given orders. Miller sat him down on a bench, and Emori came towards him. He noticed she was carrying an extra bag of medical supplies.

 

“Hey, Bellamy, can I take a look at your leg?” she asked, her voice quiet, as if she was talking to a frightened wild animal. “Jackson told me to get you bandaged up.”

 

Bellamy nodded slightly, not really caring how his leg was. He felt Emori tug on his pants, cutting away the fabric around the outside of his thigh, which was soaked in blood. He heard Emori mutter something about the deepness of the wound, but it was muffled and he couldn’t be bothered with the information regardless. His eyes were focused on the tree line, the last place he had seen Jackson and Murphy trying to revive Clarke.

 

_I already lost her once. I can’t do that again._

 

Echo stepped in front of him, breaking his view of the tree line. She crouched in front of him and pulled his trembling hands into hers. “She’ll be fine, Bellamy,” he heard her murmur, but he just stared at her blankly.

 

“I left her,” he whispered brokenly after a moment of silence. Echo and Emori exchanged a look. “I left her again. Why would you make me leave her again?” His voice was so quiet, so damaged.

 

“Bellamy, we had to take a look at your leg. You’re bleeding pretty badly,” Echo said, her thumbs stroking over his knuckles. “Besides, Jackson needed room to work.”

 

The radio on Miller’s hip crackled to life, and Jackson’s voice soon followed. “Miller, come in. Can you find something to use as a stretcher?”

 

“Yeah, I’m on it,” he responded, and walked away before Bellamy could grab the radio to ask Jackson about Clarke.

 

Bellamy looked down at Emori as she finished bandaging his thigh. He noticed some bruising around her wrists and briefly remembered Murphy chaining her inside of the open building. She had wrapped his leg in gauze the best she could. Without stitches, it would leave a nasty scar, but it wouldn’t be the first for him. He still had the scars from the panther attack in the drop ship days, and a similar scar from Roan stabbing his other leg. She started putting the supplies away just as Miller reemerged with something that resembled a cot, probably from inside one of the huts they had come across. Bellamy tried to stand up to follow, but Echo stood in his way.

 

“Bellamy, sit down. You can’t go back there,” she said, her hands placed against his chest.

 

“Why not?” Bellamy challenged, looking down at her with hard, unfeeling eyes.

 

Echo sighed, clenching her jaw for a moment before speaking. “Because if Jackson couldn’t bring her back, what are you going to do?”

 

Bellamy froze, a little taken aback at how blunt Echo had put it, but not really surprised. She had always been brutally honest, very rarely taking the time to word things carefully. If Jackson hadn’t saved Clarke… He shook his head, removing her hands from his chest. “I did this. I… I’m the reason she’s hurt,” he said quietly, swallowing against the lump in his throat and stepping around Echo. “I need to see her.”

 

_Alive or dead._

 

As he was limping away, he heard Echo call from behind him. “We still need you, Bellamy!”

 

He knew what she was referring to. The first year or so on the Ark, he was a mess. He did his best, of course, but there would be days where he would disappear, often to Clarke’s prison cell. Hours would be lost to his moping and moodiness, hours that could have been spent helping the rest of the group. They couldn’t afford to lose him like that again, especially on a new planet with unfamiliar territory. Hell, even on Eligius, they needed someone to help Madi lead. He knew it had to be him.

 

Bellamy stopped just before the tree line as he saw Miller, Murphy, and Jackson emerge from the brush. They were all supporting the stretcher, Clarke’s body positioned carefully on top of it. Bellamy found his footing again and rushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He was desperate for Clarke to be saved, to be breathing again. She had been so cold on the dirt floor, her lips tinged purple. As he reached the head of the stretcher, he heard the pained gasps coming from Clarke’s mouth.

 

_She’s breathing. She’s alive_.

 

Jackson’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Her windpipe is pretty badly damaged, but as long as she doesn’t strain it, and she gets some rest, her throat should recover. She was without oxygen to her brain for at least a few minutes, though, so she might have some damage there, but we won’t know for a while. She isn’t responsive yet.”

 

Bellamy looked up at him, trying to clear his throat around the lump stuck there. “Thank you,” he murmured. He didn’t want to think about the lasting effects, not yet at least. All that mattered right now was that Clarke was alive, and breathing on her own.

 

Jackson nodded in acknowledgement. “Let’s get her inside. She needs time to recover. We’ll need that extra oxygen tank from the drop shuttle. I’ll send Echo and Emori for it.”

 

Bellamy helped support the stretcher as they carried Clarke inside. Jackson asked the two girls to go get the oxygen tank as they passed them, and Bellamy noticed an odd look cross Echo’s face for a moment before she complied. She still hadn’t forgiven Clarke for what she had done, and Bellamy suspected that Echo wasn’t fully willing to give help to someone she thought of as a traitor. Regardless, Bellamy watched her leave with Emori as they brought the cot into the open building.

 

Once the cot was placed down, Jackson took a quick moment to feel for Clarke’s pulse. “Her heart rate is getting better. It was slow at first, but its regulating,” he murmured. “I’ll keep an eye on it. In the mean time, she needs to rest.”

 

Miller, Jackson, and Murphy turned to leave, Bellamy the only one remaining. He looked down at Clarke, and wasn’t sure she would want him close to her because of what he had done. Though everything in his body was telling him to be close to her, he turned to go to the other side of the room to keep an eye on her from afar.

 

He had only taken a step when he heard a raspy voice from behind him. “Stay,” she squeaked, barely able to get the word out. When Bellamy turned back to face her, she was looking up at him, still trying to suck down painful breaths. “Please.”

 

Bellamy let out a sigh of relief and sat down next to her cot. He reached forward to brush the strands of hair out of her face, and he cupped her cheek gently. “I’m right here, Clarke.”

 

Clarke seemed satisfied with his answer and closed her eyes, leaning her head into his hand. It was such a simple gesture, but one that meant that he was forgiven. _If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you._

 

Bellamy closed his eyes too, trying his best to hold back his tears, but he felt them slip down his cheeks anyways. He let out a shaky breath, his thumb stroking over Clarke’s temple. “Thank you… for coming back to me.” He felt Clarke’s hand over his, and he looked down to see her gazing at him again. She couldn’t talk, but her eyes said everything he needed to know.

 

_I will always come back to you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the read! Leave kudos or comments to tell me if you liked it.


End file.
